


Spathiphyllum

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Gen, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-17 21:46:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21516952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Tilly sort of sees May.
Kudos: 2





	Spathiphyllum

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It’s a dream, and she knows it. Not a lucid dream, exactly—she can’t change it, or maybe she just doesn’t want to. She’s in a lush, green forest, one that she walked through so many years ago on Earth, with rich, brown soil underneath her feet, teeming with greenery and _life_. It smells like _home_. Sylvia sucks in a long, shuddering breath, and savours the exhale. The trees around her are enormous—thick, towering old growth, shielding her from the elements like well-worn friends. The ferns beneath her feet shimmer with fading rainwater in the early morning light. She wanders along the path, glad not to be alone. 

May walks with her. May smiles like she did in middle school, but Sylvia knows this isn’t _that_ May, because this one’s full-grown, and she’s no longer meek but impressive and purposeful. She walks beside Sylvia in a uniform she didn’t earn, but Sylvia doesn’t begrudge her for it. Now Sylvia understands that this is a form of her own making. It’s just easier to understand. Maybe she could hold the _real_ May—the jahSepp—in the palm of her hand. But this one can talk to her and stroll with her through the foliage. This May tilts her head up and complains, “Your forest is too _dark_.”

Sylvia giggles. She doesn’t even know why, she’s just _happy_. The forest isn’t dark at all. It’s bright and beautiful, but it isn’t luminescent like the mycelium network. It doesn’t glisten or glow in the same way, but they’re just two different types of art. It’s nice to share her version with May, even if May’s critical. At least she’s not as critical as Sylvia’s mother—she berated Sylvia for a week after going on her two-day hike out in the wilderness. 

They pass a fallen log, and May’s steps hesitate. Her eyes sweep over it with an intensity that Sylvia can’t place at first. Then she wonders aloud, “Do you want to eat it?”

“No,” May snorts, though maybe she does—isn’t that what the jahSepp do? Sylvia still doesn’t fully understand them. They’re so _alien_. So interesting. Sylvia has so many questions. 

Now isn’t the time to ask them. May won’t be able to answer. Sylvia reaches out her hand for no particular reason, and in the hazy way of dreams, May’s suddenly holding her back.

Sylvia smiles. It’s _so good_ to see her friend again.

But her alarm’s beeping in the background, and Sylvia’s whisked away.


End file.
